


a good thing

by orphan_account



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, Mexico GP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis and Sergio get close, then closer. It's a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a good thing

It’s a dance. They _dance_ around each other.

 

It starts maybe in Russia, or somewhere in Austin, it’s difficult to say. He has always been friendly with Sergio – Checo –, friendlier than he is with most of his fellow drivers. It wasn’t that unusual to see them talking or joking, especially when Lewis brought his dogs on weekends. Sergio had a soft spot for them.

 

It’s fun, in a way Lewis hasn’t had in awhile, not like this; the almost innocent flirting that gives them both space to back out at any moment, to play it off like it’s only friendly banter, only a little bit of fun.

 

But Sergio doesn’t take a step back, and neither does Lewis.

 

-

 

“You’re gonna let Vettel be your wingman?” Sergio says playfully after the post race press conference, referring to the ‘giving out Lewis’ hotel room to grid girls’ incident, bumping shoulders with him as he goes straight for Lewis’ bottle of water.

 

“Sebastian’s a dick,” Lewis rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I’m not sleeping with grid girls. I mean, they’re hot, but no.”

 

“No mixing work and pleasure?”

 

“I didn’t say that,” Lewis licks his lips, because he knows it’s a low blow. “But I do have my ethics, and sleeping with grid girls is not my type of ethics.”

 

“Right, your type of blonde is more… German, right?” Sergio shrugs, smirk more evident on his face by the second. “Or Rihanna, who knows these days.”

 

“She’s my friend,” Lewis chuckles, but strongly refuses to blush. “And honestly, I heard that’s _your_ type.”

 

Sergio’s actually speechless for a few seconds, but then his face breaks into a smile as he gives Lewis his bottle back. “Good one, but you’ve beat me there a long time ago.”

 

“I beat you in a lot of things, you shouldn’t be surprised.”

 

“Right. A bit overconfident there, no?” He laughs, then leans in to speak closely to Lewis ear, mouth brushing against the lobe of his ear. “Maybe we’ll find out there’s something I can beat you in. You never know...” The contact is gone as fast as it comes, but Lewis feels it at the top of his spine.

 

“Hmmm, maybe,” He hums uncommitted. “I look forward to find out.”

 

-

“You’re in Mercedes territory,” He whispers in Sergio’s ear, taking advantage of the fact that the Mexican is facing away from him, eyes wandering as if looking for someone. Sergio jumps a little at the surprise, but wastes no time in pushing Lewis off by the shoulders.

 

“I figured congratulations are in order,” He shrugs. “I mean it. You were unbelievable out there, man, even better than last year. You deserve it… World champion.”

 

“Thanks,” Lewis is almost shy in his acknowledgement, but the pride inside his chest is too much, it feels like he’s going to explode. Sergio pulls into into a hug, arms tight around his waist.

 

“Did you bring me a congratulations gift?” Lewis jokes as they pull away, because he just can’t resist it, the amount of champagne he downed already affecting him.

 

“Not really, sorry,” Sergio laughs, and they’re talking closely, but it’s a party and no one really cares, no one bats an eyelash even if it’s Lewis’ party. “Maybe I will, though. You’re going to my territory next, so maybe I’ll bring you a nice gift. What do you like?”

 

“Now where’s the fun in telling you? I think you’ll do alright in your choice.”

 

“Ok, fair enough,” He says, but suddenly his eyes look through Lewis. His smile turns into a chuckle, and he grabs the flute of champagne from Lewis’ hand, downs the rest of it in one go. “Do you think he’s glaring at you or at me?”

 

Lewis turns back to check who he’s talking about, only to find Nico turning his back to them, getting lost in the crowd. “Probably me.”

 

“Sure, if you say so..” Sergio smiles. “I better go. Again, congratulations, Lewis. See you in Mexico.”

 

-

 

He’s lost count of how many tequila shots they’ve done, but Sergio’s a warm weight clinging onto him, arms around his shoulder and practically vibrating with happiness and excitement and post home race adrenaline.

 

“I thought you’d be more used to tequila,” Lewis teases him.

 

“Whoever says they’re used to tequila is lying,” Sergio clings to him tighter, pushes the fabric of Lewis’ hood out of the way to whisper it in his ear, above the club’s pounding music. Lewis doesn’t disagree, because even if he feels more aware of himself than Checo, he’s nowhere near sober, letting his hand travel from gripping the back of his neck to down his back until it rests on his hip.

 

It doesn’t last; he feels Sergio being pulled away from where he’s plastered against Lewis’ side in front of the club’s crowd and under Esteban’s arm, having something whispered to him. He watches as Sergio laughs and pats Esteban on the chest, shoving him away playfully as he returns to Lewis’ side under his friend’s watchful look.

 

“What?” Lewis asks, laughing at Sergio’s hair sticking up in weird angles and the drunken, dumb smile in his face.

 

“He worries,” Sergio waves it off. “Come on, we’re only halfway into being properly drunk, yes?” He says, the accent slipping into his voice and getting stronger by the second. He leads Lewis to the V.I.P dark room behind the DJ’s area, hand on Lewis’ lower back and only a step away from him.

 

The room is expectedly empty, reserved for them their friends, who were mostly on the dance floor, getting drunk or trying to get laid, black walls and low lightning that gives them a sense of privacy even in such a public place.

 

“You think it’s such a great idea to drink more?” Lewis laughs as Sergio grabs two shot glasses and fills them up with more alcohol, along with two pieces of lemon and stops in front of Lewis.

 

“Not really.” He laughs, but downs his shot anyway and sucks on his slice of lemon, not waiting for Lewis.  “What, do you need encouragement?”

 

“Maybe,” Lewis laughs. “Are you going to let me do a body shot?” It’s supposed to sound like a joke, but Sergio smiles in a whole different way, shoving the glass into Lewis’ hand and the slice of lemon between his lips. Lewis doesn’t think he would normally do this, not completely sober, but Checo is half drunk and so is he.

 

Sergio already had two buttons of his navy blue button up shirt undone by the time they started drinking, but he makes sure to unbutton two more just so Lewis has no doubts he’s actually offering. He takes one step closer to Lewis so they’re practically chest to chest, and the whole thing is not light flirting anymore, there’s no space to back off. He grabs the glass from Lewis hand, a challenge clearly written in his eyes as he brings it to touch his own neck.

 

Lewis watches as the liquid starts pouring down on the exposed caramel skin, pooling on his collarbone for a second before dripping down his chest. He clicks into action, then, wrapping an arm in a death grip around Sergio’ waist, bringing his lips to touch the other’s chest, just above the nipple, sucking in the skin and gathering as much tequila as he can on his tongue. He licks his way up, sucking a bruise on Sergio’s collarbone – Sergio’s who’s hot under his touch and almost trembling already, trying unsuccessfully to grab a fistful of Lewis’ recently cut short hair.

 

Lewis licks a long stripe up his neck, tasting and smelling the alcohol mixed with sweat and possibly aftershave. He grabs the shell of Sergio’s ear between his teeth for a second before letting go, immensely satisfied with the low moan he receives in return.

 

Sergio’s flushed with anticipation when Lewis looks at him, and it makes him have no interest in pretending this isn’t what it is anymore. He takes the slice of lemon from between Sergio’s lips with his fingers and let it fall somewhere on the floor, because he’d much rather be kissing him right now. So he does.

 

Sergio’s lips are full and glistening and taste like lemon juice when Lewis licks inside his mouth, not bothering to be gentle or sweet, because as sweet as Sergio could be sometimes, this wasn’t at all what either of them expected. It’s filthy kissing, and biting, and sucking bruises on each other’s necks. Sergio fights back, of course he does, being the one to shove Lewis up against the wall with a leg between his until they’re pushing and pulling at each other like seventeen year olds.

 

The mexican keeps trying to grab his hair unsuccessfully, much to Lewis’ amusement, who can very well do it to him, fisting a hand in Sergio’s wild, soft hair and pulling as he pleases.

 

“Your hair,” Sergio says between kisses. “Too short. And I liked the blonde.”

 

“Of course you did,” Lewis smirks. “You’re into blondes.”

 

Sergio bites his lip sharply in retaliation. “Speaking of,” He says, but soon licks Lewis’ bottom lip soothingly. “Don’t you wonder what your blonde german would think of this?”

 

It’s Lewis’ turn to retaliate, changing positions and shoving Sergio against the wall at the very same spot he was trapped it. “How about you don’t talk about my Nico and I don’t talk about yours? I really don’t care.”

 

“Fair,” Sergio chuckles, a little breathless from the way Lewis grabs his crotch through his jeans. “ _Your_ Nico, huh?”

 

Lewis groans, even though he knows he’s being played, that Checo just wants to get a rise out of him. “Come on, we should get out of here.”

 

“About time.”

 

-

 

It’s a wonder they make it to Lewis’ hotel room with clothes at all, but they’re at it again as soon as Lewis closes the door behind them. Sergio is different from Nico in all the ways that count, in all the ways that help Lewis not remember.

 

“I liked that shirt,” Sergio pouts when Lewis has no patience to unbutton his shirt and rips the remaining buttons off instead.

 

“This is how I like to unwrap my gifts, what can I say?”

 

It’s really hard not to let Sergio fuck him against the door.

 

-

 

Checo sleeps on his back and splayed out on the bed, one leg thrown over Lewis, who sleeps on his chest and with his face half buried in his hair. Sergio’s hair smells like Lewis’ shampoo that he used after they fucked for the second time on the shower. They’re not cuddling, not wrapped around each other like Lewis is – was – used to waking up with _him_ , but their legs are tangled and Sergio is warm. It feels foreign, but not weird. It doesn’t feel like home, or all the cheesy things he used to feel before with someone else, but it’s good.

 

Lewis figures he deserves a good thing.

**Author's Note:**

> what can i say? i'm trash. absolute trash and i love them they're adorable what the fuck how am i the first one to write this? 
> 
> and yes, this is absolutely inspired by that video. you know the one. (also, i'll fix he spacing later? who knows, if i have the patience and time)


End file.
